Gender Theory
by Jacob M. Bosch
Summary: Xander buys the world a little more time and pays the price. Ethan Rayne works his mojo to help, sort of. And Angel gets stuck in the middle. Xander x OC. Slash, kinda.
1. Chapter 1

Gender Theory

Disclaimer: Do not own a single Mutant Enemy character in this story. Not a one. So if you insist on suing me, I must warn you I have few possessions worth an hour of your lawyer's time.

Spoilers: Everything up to Season 4 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and not much else.

* * *

Opening this box was going to cost him, Xander just knew it. Everyone else was knocked out, or possibly worse, and there was no one else to do the job. That's where he came in; pretty much everyone's last choice. The box was giving off Hellraiser vibes that's for sure. It was gold and black, but instead of having the black trim inlaid in the gold, the gold was inlaid in the black. Carving out words, or letters, Xander couldn't read never mind understand. Common sense told Xander not to touch the box, but it was the reason the gang attacked the underground lair and the demons within. 

He was still tingly all over from the explosion of magic that made the others go night, night. If he'd been closer to Willow when she de-trapped the magic box he'd be dreaming too. Though he felt like his entire body had been used as Buffy's training dummy without sufficient padding, Xander knew he had to get moving, there was no telling when the demons' friends would show up to avenge their buds, who now littered the ground as corpses.

Xander crawled past his friends, stopping only once to gaze at the agonized expression frozen on Willow's face. The bolt of magic reflected back at her must have been a doozey. Xander thanked his lucky stars he didn't understand the kind of power Willow literally had dancing on her fingertips, or else he was certain he'd be more worried about her condition.

The Hellraiser box lie in the center of the semi-circle the others had fallen into, near Giles's hand where the Watcher fell. Xander grabbed it, well, no, he gently scooped the box up, careful not to stroke the chicken scratch lettering. He so did not want to meet Pinhead or his Hellmouth counterpart.

_Pain is pleasure my ass!_

Xander held the box up and studied it in the torchlight. Trying to remember Giles' explanation on how to unlock the thing, which according to the Watcher was going to reveal the mysteries of life, or what's really in hotdogs… Xander really wished he'd paid attention.

Just beyond the mouth of the cave the sound of clashing blades reached Xander's ears. Angel. The Scoobies took care of the group of demons guarding the box, while Angel watched their rear. Five demons guarded the inner sanctum, about half their number and they'd killed three before reaching the box. Angel had two demons on his hands and there wouldn't be any Calvary. Xander didn't feel happy about that. Hate, hate, hate Angel he did, but the demons were tough; stronger than your average vampire, and it didn't sit right Angel had to take two of them on his own. He was part of the team… sort of.

Xander put Angel out of his thoughts; the box was the mission. The magic Willow used to bypass it's force field worked, except for the unfortunate backlash which knocked everyone out, and that meant Xander theoretically could open the box. If he didn't, the danger they'd risked would've been for nothing.

Okay, Xander recalled Giles saying touching a series of symbols in a particular order would activate the box. Symbols that looked a lot like… _Roman numerals, yeah, that's right_! Xander remembered now. He rotated the box and found all four hieroglyphs—and all but one was over ten, and one through ten was as far as Xander's familiarity with Roman numerals went.

Well… dang.

* * *

Angel barely managed to dodge an axe swing when he heard his name called. "Angel!" 

He was distracted so it took him way too long to recognize the owner of the voice. "What?" he shouted back as sparks from the axe blade hitting the rocks above his head rained down on his ducked head.

"What do the Roman numerals above ten look like?"

The hell… Angel quickly jumped out of the way of another axe swing just in time. Only Xander Harris could ask a question so asinine and bizarre it could make a man in the middle of a life and death struggle forget there were axes coming at him. "Are you insane!"

"The others are unconscious and I figured since you're old you probably used Roman numbers at some point and can tell me what symbols I'm supposed to press."

"Giles," dodge, "explained at," duck, parry, "the meeting," Angel said.

"Yeah, right, like I was listening! Geeze, I was supposed to be look out, not opening Pinhead's private invite to tortureville!"

_What the hell is he talking about_, Angel wondered? But decided it was likely nonsense Xander mistakenly thought pertinent to the situation. "Whatever, just enter 1999 and--"

"How do I do that?"

Angel dodged one demon's attack then kicked the second in the stomach, temporarily knocking it away from him. "Push the freaking symbols!"

"Hey! Don't you yell at me, Deadite! I can't calculate Roman numerals that high!"

_What the hell are they teaching kids in school these days_? "You're an idiot, Harris!"

"Oh, screw you! Just tell me what to push, asshole!"

"Well, I'm kind of busy fighting for my life," Angel said. "Figure it out yourself. Maybe you won't be blown up."

"Dude, I hate you beyond all reason. It's, like, not healthy how much I hate you."

"Learn to live with it for however long it takes you to blow yourself up." The truth was Angel was sure the Clock didn't blow up when the wrong date was entered, but if giving Xander the impression it did made the kid crap his pants, well, Angel so rarely got to feel happy these days…

"Hatehatehate… wait a sec… you'd never let me detonate a bomb in the same room as Buffy," Xander said. "Ha! Nice try, blood-breath. Just you wait, I'm gonna tell Giles you risked the mission just to scare me because you're totally petty!"

"I'm petty?" Angel cried and in a fierce rush of anger took the head off one of the demons. The second demon looked down at his fallen comrade, then at Angel and fear showed in the creature's yellow-in-red eyes. Angel was too busy yelling at Xander to notice.

"And you're a thousand years old, too. Grow up, man!"

Angel's face grew bumpy and a pair of fangs appeared in his mouth. He growled and made the remaining demon jump. The demon was brave and held its ground even as Angel charged in with a mighty roar and cut it in half at the waist. While the demon's guts spilled onto the soil, Angel gripped his sword tightly and tried to stop imagining going into the cavern and mixing the demon's blood with Xander's. After calming his nerves and over-developed bloodlust, Angel left the antechamber connecting the dead-end cavern to a mile long cave system.

Bodies were scattered everywhere. Xander was lying on the ground on his side. One arm supporting his torso off the earth, while his other hand held Mythr's Clock; he was intensely scrutinizing the cube and missed Angel's entrance.

Angel's face went smooth when he saw Buffy unconscious form next to Willow's. He ran to her and dropped to his knees beside Buffy and set down his sword, he heard her shallow breathing and the slow rhythm of her heartbeat. She wasn't seriously hurt from what he could detect. He brushed his hand across her cheek. He wanted to do more but only allowed himself that much contact before he moved on to Willow then Giles. Giles was fine as well, but Willow was hurt badly. A faint electrical charge surrounded her and her heartbeat was irregular. She needed medical help soon.

"Are they okay?" Xander asked when Angel finally approached him.

"What happened?"

"Magic stuff. Are they okay?"

"Willow's hurt. Her heart's going through fibrillation."

Xander looked at the girl for a long moment before Angel saw the boy's concern fortify into grim determination. "Okay. Okay, tell me how to make this thing work," he said.

Angel felt for the kid. He bent down and placed a comforting hand on Xander's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Give me Mythr's Clock."

Xander looked like he was about to protest, out of habit if nothing else, but did hand to cube to Angel. Angel examined the intricately designed clock and located each numeral he needed to push. There was a slight tug on Angel's trench coat, which he ignored, knowing it was Xander. But a second later he was almost pulled to the floor when the tug became a hard yank. Bracing his legs Angel looked down and saw Xander hoisting himself up from the ground using Angel's coat like a rope.

"Don't give me that look, Dead Boy Walkin'," Xander said as he straightened up beside Angel. He clutched the back of the coat and Angel's arm to keep on his feet, his head leaning on the vampire's shoulder. "You coulda helped me up."

Angel frowned but didn't say anything. Xander was staring at Mythr's Clock; a clear look of worry upon his countenance, and Angel thought it cold-hearted to throw him back to the ground. Angel took his gaze from Xander and looked down at the clock and began tapping off the numbers in order: MCMXCIX. Nothing happened.

Xander, his head now comfortably propped on Angel's shoulder, said, "I'm severely under-whelmed."

"I don't understand." Angel re-entered the sequence of numbers and, again, nothing happened.

"Shake it," Xander suggested helpfully.

Angel pushed Xander off him and the kid dropped like a stone. "Ow! You dork!" No matter how many times Angel entered the numbers the clock remained unresponsive. "Seems like I wasn't the only one not listening to Giles," Xander taunted from the ground.

"Please shut the hell up," Angel responded absently, more focused on Mythr's Clock than Xander's insolence.

"Look, forget the box and get Willow to the hospital."

"You know I can't do that. If I don't get the thing working we're going to have an Apocalypse on our hands!"

"What else is new? Willow needs help now!" Xander demanded pulling on Angel's coat to snatch the vampire's attention from the Clock.

"There can't be more to it," Angel said aloud, but not to Xander who he thoroughly ignored. "Giles said he just needed to enter the numerals then Mythr's Clock would be reset."

"Angel…" Xander tugged on Angel's coat.

"Maybe it _is_ reset? No, the box opens and shows when it goes off again."

"Angel…" followed by a more insistent tug on Angel's coat.

"Quiet, Xander. Damn it, I know I haven't forgotten a word of what Giles said about the Clock! But if it's not working I must have missed something, but what?"

Xander abandoned coat yanking and shouted, "Angel!"

"What the hell do you want?" the vampire snarled, glaring down at the Xander.

Xander glared right back. "Has it occurred to you maybe Giles doesn't know everything about the box?" he asked.

"Clock. It's a clock."

"Sure it is, a clock in the shape of a box. Listen, I know I'm talking crazy, I mean, Giles not knowin' stuff? Wacky. But what if he's Special Ed. when it comes to the box?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. He and I poured over every book and scroll having to do with the Clock. We didn't miss anything."

"You're holding one box-clock that says otherwise."

Angel hated to admit it, but Xander had a point. Mythr's Clock should have responded by now. And in less than twenty minutes when the Clock ticked down to zero it would set off a chain of events leading to unimaginable catastrophe. The world would descend into utter chaos. Which is what the Clock contained: Chaos in its purist form. Untainted, unfocused, and worst of all, utterly unpredictable—the way chaos tends to be.

"I need Giles," Angel said before walking over to the Watcher. Angel didn't want to disturb Giles, he knew the best thing to do when magic is involved is to allow that magic to run its course; waiting a spell out, if possible, was better than trying to interrupt it. But the Clock couldn't wait.

"No need to wake Rupert, my good man. I'll be more than happy to lend a helping hand."

* * *

From his vantage point on the ground Xander couldn't see who was talking to Angel because the vampire's body blocked his view. "Hey, who's that?" 

Angel was ignoring him again and took a threatening step towards the intruder.

"No need to get physical, young man," a British guy said, a British guy with a familiar voice. "Or should I say old man?"

"Who are you?"

"A friend of Rupert down there…"

"Who just happens to be visiting an underground labyrinth overrun with demons?"

"Believe me, Ripper and I handled our share of demons. Demons certainly more feisty than these poor, unfortunate creatures."

"You're that guy!" Xander shouted, suddenly remembering whom the British voice belonged to. "Angel, seriously, kill this guy! He's totally evil and up to no good!"

"Oh, I didn't see you there. Xander, isn't it? I assure you, you need not worry about me, I wouldn't dream of being "up to no good" with a dangerous vampire like your Angel around."

"Xander, who is he?"

"Remember when you had to take that demon inside you? The one that possessed… Ms. Calendar? He's the guy that tried to get it to kill Buffy in his place."

"Oh, dear," the British guy said. "That was so long ago…"

"And that Halloween when everybody turned into their costumes, that was him, too, I think. Oh yeah, and the Band Candy incident? All his fault."

"I take exception to that one," the evil British guy scoffed. "I was freelancing that nasty piece of work. Hired for my special brand of--"

"Chaos," Angel finished.

"Hah-Ha. You understand how I might be able to help you, then."

"You're here for the Clock. To make sure it goes off." Angel took another threatening step.

"No, no, no, I simply want to reset the Clock for you… and borrow a portion of its power. A small bit, mind you."

"We do not believe you, British guy," Xander said. He'd crawled into a position on the ground where he could see the Chaos Wizard. Yep, definitely that's him: Thin, dark hair graying at the temples, sly-faced. He wore a dark blue knit shirt and light colored slacks and black shoes. The wizard looked very none-threatening if you didn't know what he was capable of.

"I don't blame you, young man. However only I can reset the Clock, unless you prefer a world overrun by chaos?"

"Like you wouldn't?" Xander accused.

"Certainly not! Well, not chaos my god nor I have a hand in."

"I think we'll stick with Giles. You know, the guy who hasn't tried to kill us," Xander said.

"How do you plan to get the Clock to work?" Angel asked the wizard.

"Angel!"

"I intend to reset the Clock then siphon off a portion of its power," Rayne answered evasively.

Angel growled. "How?"

"If I told you that would you need me?"

"I can get it out of you," Angel said.

"Force?" the wizard said the waved away Angel's threat. "Certainly it's in all our best interests to make one small concession. After all, physical intimidation takes time. You don't have time."

"I can't believe this guy," Xander muttered, a little awed. He remembered what Angel did to Giles to get him to talk and the Chaos Wizard had to know what vampires like Angel are capable of, but he was pretty much thumbing his nose at the prospect of Angel torturing him. The guy may look scrawny, but he had some huge balls on him. If Angel threatened to torture him for information Xander was pretty sure he'd be spilling his guts about stuff as far back as second grade, like when he peed on himself during P.E after Larry Blaisedale promised to beat him up after school.

"And let's not forget you may not wake Rupert in time."

Since he wasn't getting a vote, Xander remained silent and waited for Angel to decide. Besides, he didn't know what to do anyway; he just knew he didn't trust the Warlock. Angel walked over to the wizard and placed the box in the man's outstretched hand. The wizard smiled wickedly and didn't even try to look like he wasn't going to betray them. Xander couldn't recall meeting anyone who looked as untrustworthy as this guy did.

"If you screw us, I'll show you what I can do when I have all the time in the world."

Xander felt a chill run through him at Angel's menacing tone. _Damn it, why is nobody in Angel's fan club ever around, or conscious, when he says stuff like that_? The wizard moved past Angel and came to where Xander lay. He looked down at Xander and gave him a look that was pure creepy.

"Hello, little boy." Xander gulped and scooted away from the man, or tried to. He was actually too achy to drag himself more than a few inches.

"Leave him alone, Rayne," Angel said, walking up behind the wizard, past him and blocked his path to Xander. Ethan Rayne, that's right, Xander remembered his name now. Rayne laughed.

"Actually, I need this young man's help."

"What for?" Xander and Angel asked at the same time.

Rayne gave the pair a deep frown. "Hmm. It seems Rupert truly lacks access to some of the darker tomes regarding Mythr's Clock. Such as Mythr's very own manual, which I happen to have in my possession."

"You have it?" Angel exclaimed. Angel sounded impressed.

"Certainly," Rayne declared proudly. "I am a Chaos Wizard after all, and Mythr was one of my forbearers."

"Still not getting why I need to be involved," Xander said.

Rayne moved and stood next to Angel, got down on one knee and held his hand out to Xander. "Come now, young man, I intend to hurt you only slightly."

"Aren't you supposed to say you _won't_ hurt me?" Xander asked, ignoring the wizard's outstretched hand.

"What are you going to do to him?" Angel asked, though the way he asked didn't make him sound too concerned for Xander's welfare. Very perfunctory, like how someone might sound when know they should be empathetic, aren't, but want to sound like they are because that's what's expected. Basically? Angel sounded like a psychopath.

"I just need a few drops of blood."

"Back off, freak, use your own!"

Rayne pulled his hand back and chuckled. "That would be quite the trick, wouldn't it? I lack, shall we say, the virtue necessary."

"Ah," Angel said, "let me guess: virgin's blood?"

_Hah! They're in for a surprise_! Xander crowed silently. Almost glad he lost his virginity to Faith… eventual strangulation aside, so yeah, almost.

"No, the essence of the uncorrupt. Which, of course, takes you and I out of the running."

Angel nodded. "I guess Xander might meet that criteria," he acknowledged dryly.

"Don't sound so convinced there, Angel," Xander remarked, frowning.

"Right, shall we proceed then?" Rayne said, holding his hand out to Xander again.

Xander pinned the man with a deadly stare. "Screw you."

"We don't have time for such a dalliance, maybe we can work something out later, if you like…"

Xander stared at the warlock blankly. He did not just hear that. He was having an auditory hallucination, that's all. Creepy wizard guy did not proposition him. Mmmm, mmm, la la la la la!

"Give him your hand, Xander," Angel said.

Unnerved and off-balanced by Rayne's innuendo, Xander thoughtlessly put out his hand as ordered. Rayne materialized a wicked looking knife in his right hand from somewhere, the glow from the cavern's torch light made the five inch blade glint. Xander snatched his hand back and glared up at Angel.

"Oh, you'd just love that, to see me get my throat slit, wouldn't you?" Xander shouted to mask his sudden, stinky fear.

Angel had the temerity to look affronted. "I would not!"

"Would too!"

"I guess we can't force the lad to participate," Rayne broke in before Xander and Angel could continue their lively and intelligent debate. The wizard turned around and eyed the unconscious Scoobies. "We'll have to take an alternate. The witch will do nicely."

Xander and Angel looked at the wizard then at each other. Angel's face was impassive; Xander had to give Angel a few points for not smirking at the crappy situation Xander was in. Xander bore his gaze into Rayne's back, wishing looks could kill and said, "You evil sum bitch. I'll do it."

Rayne faced them again with a huge smile on his face. "Excellent. And by the way, I don't need to slit your throat, a simple cut to the palm of you hand should suffice," he said and set the box on the ground between himself and Xander. "Give me your hand."

Xander took a deep, calming breath and held out his hand. There was a flash of glinting metal and a harsh sting on his palm. "Ah!" Xander gasped and snatched his hand back, hissing he looked at his hand and saw a pool of dark red blood already forming in his palm.

"Put your hand over the Clock and let the blood cover as much of its surface as possible," Rayne said.

Xander moaned and cradled his injured hand, watching his blood start to drip down from between his fingers and over the edges of his palm. "Please," he replied quietly.

"What's that?"

"You could at least say please."

"Xander, just do as he says," Angel said.

Xander's gaze switched to Angel so he could snap at him, but Xander was struck silent when he found the vampire investigating his bloody hand a little too closely. _Great, I have one evil dude wanting to hump me while the part-time evil guy wants to turn me into a Slurpie_.

Xander quickly looked away from Angel and placed his palm above the box. It didn't take long before the blood gushing from the gash coated the top surface of the gold and black cube. Xander was about to pull his hand away but Rayne caught his wrist and held Xander's hand in place. His grip was like an iron trap, and hurt, making Xander's breath hitch. "Let the blood flow," he said softly, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against Xander's skin.

And flow it did, until Xander felt a little faint. As dark red spilled over the four other exposed surfaces of the box a yellow glow emitted from the sliver-spots where blood didn't yet reach. A low-pitched clicking from the box followed, reminding Xander of the sound gears make inside old-fashion Wind-up clocks. _Huh, I guess it is a clock_, Xander thought.

"O-Okay, I think that's enough blood," Angel said after the light emanating from the box disappeared, and Xander's blood hit the ground and oozed into a moat around the cube. When Rayne released his wrist Xander risked another glance at Angel and saw the mesmerizing effect of the blood had worn off the vampire.

Rayne handed Xander a crisply folded white handkerchief, and as Xander used it to tend his wounded appendage the blood on the box seeped into its gold inlay and disappeared; even the blood puddle surrounding the cube got sucked up inside without leaving a speck of dampness behind in the earth. Then the box broke apart into five sections reveling a narrow, transparent cylinder. Inside the cylinder Xander saw dozens of metal gears of varying sizes and colors winding. Nowhere on the thing did he see the face of a clock, though. Next, very slowly, the cylinder began to darken like a photosensitive lens until it turned solid black, and on top of the cylinder a line of dark red lettering appeared: MMMXCIX.

"Ah, eleven hundred years, is it?" Rayne said. "A bit over a millennium. Nothing we need worry about."

Rayne touched the script with the fore and middle fingers of his right hand and began chanting in a language that sounded suspiciously like Pig Latin to Xander. He was convinced Rayne was speaking gobbledygook until Angel said, "What do you mean, 'I shall let all chaos reign supreme'?" Xander heard alarm in the vampire's voice. Angel finally figured out Rayne was a shady bastard and they shouldn't have trusted him and he was about to stab them in the back.

Rayne continued chanting and Xander felt the tiny hairs on his skin rankle, while the fillings in his teeth flooded his mouth with the tang of metal. Angel tried to pull Rayne from the box but Rayne wouldn't budge. It was as if he were a statue that weighed more than even a vampire could move. And he never stopped chanting. Angel gave up trying to move Rayne and rushed to Xander, picked him up and set him farther away from the wizard down among the Scoobies.

"I think it's time to get the hell out of here," Xander said when he saw Angel about to continue his useless struggle to remove Rayne from the Clock.

"I have to stop him."

"You guys made a deal, remember? He resets the Clock," Xander hated calling the box that, but evidence to the contrary proved it was a clock, "and he gets some of its juice."

"Believe me when I tell you it's a bad thing when Chaos Wizards start talking about chaos reigning supreme," Angel said.

"No kidding, but we can't stop him right now anyway, and the longer you try the worse Willow gets. Besides, what if he decides to kill everybody when he's done shootin' up on steroids? Maybe we shouldn't be stacked in a neat pile."

Angel pondered this for a moment then nodded and scooped up Buffy. "Willow first, Angel," Xander said, voice tight as a noose. His temper rising when he saw the temptation on Angel's face to ignore everybody else to save his girlfriend. But to Xander's surprise Angel put Buffy down gathered up Willow and ran out of the cavern with her. While the vampire was gone Xander watched Rayne begin to glow with a soft white light, his chanting rising in crescendo and speed. Obviously the wizard was building towards something explosive. Xander felt magic charge the air, which meant there was a lot of power involved because even he could sense it.

Minutes later Rayne was still going and Angel returned. He grabbed Buffy and Xander didn't protest this time. He was sure Giles would agree Buffy needed to get to safety before him. Xander certainly wanted her out before himself. Angel was gone in a flash. Rayne was screaming his spell by the time Angel returned a second time, and the light surrounding him was nearly blinding.

"Giles!" Xander shouted to be heard over Rayne's voice. Xander knew Giles definitely had to be around to help them understand what Rayne was pulling off. Angel seemed to agree.

Xander was counting the seconds until Angel came back for him. Judging from the vampire's previous trips, Xander had four minutes to go before sweet freedom was his. He couldn't even look at Rayne now, so he turned his face away and bound the kerchief around his hand like a bandage. Then the light began to strobe and eventually flickered out altogether. Xander eyes needed a few moments to adapt to the dimmer torchlight. When his vision could make out shapes and dimensions he saw Rayne standing and the Clock back to its original configuration on the ground. Rayne looked at Xander and smiled. Hinky is what Xander'd call that smile.

"Hey, man! A deal's a deal, heh," Xander said with a whole bunch of camaraderie, but inside his head was pleading for Angel to get the lead out. "I guess you'll be going now to do whatever it is you evil Chaos Wizards do."

Rayne didn't reply. He continued to stare at Xander, and Xander noticed the man's body was swaying a little. _Uh-oh, looks like somebody's drunk with power. Well, great! 'Cause nobody ever does anything bad when they're hammered_!

"You know you look very vulnerable laying there," Rayne said. "It's very arousing." To illustrate, Xander's eyes couldn't help but notice the bulge in front of Rayne's tan slacks swelled.

"Mr. Rayne, I think you're kind of confused right now, so why don't you take a step back, " Rayne took a step forward instead, "and, uh, calm down. Please?"

The wizard suddenly appeared beside Xander, kneeling, one arm supporting Xander's upper body, and positioned his other arm above Xander's chest. His fingertips began slowly tracing up and down between Xander's pectorals. He said, "You know chaos isn't always a negative thing. Chaos is where all possibilities get their beginning." Rayne's voice was somewhere between Giles's lecturing tone and hypnotic. Xander opened his mouth to say something but there was a distracting warmth spreading from the invisible lines Rayne's fingertips drew on his chest.

"And from possibilities anything can be born."

Xander watched Rayne's fingers stroke the front of his shirt. They felt so hot those fingers and poured that weird heat through his skin and into his lungs. "What are you doing?" he asked the warlock, every word was a gust of flame rolling off his tongue.

"Opening you up to the possibilities," Rayne answered and placed his hand flat against Xander's stomach. Xander gasped as heat filled his belly like he'd chugged a mug of piping hot coffee. Rayne's hand slipped further down bringing that heat to Xander's abdomen. Xander tried to gasp but simply had no more breath left. Then Rayne raised his hand until just his fingertips remained in contact with Xander's body and moved them to Xander's groin. Now he found the air to scream as fire consumed his genitals; but the funny thing was it didn't hurt at all. The sensation was beyond any feeling of burning Xander could understand. It almost felt natural, like…

Rayne covered Xander's mouth with his and sucked the breath right out of Xander's lungs. His tongue licking here, there, everywhere—and Xander let him, probably couldn't have stopped him the way his brain was working, which was not at all. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out what was happening to him.

Then Rayne was a dragon breathing fire into Xander's mouth, down his throat, the heat clashing with the pyre already churning within him, meeting somewhere in the middle… and exploded. Xander felt like he was combusting from the inside out, but it still didn't hurt. Immolation was nothing like he imagined it to be. Xander writhe on the ground, sweat and other fluids pouring from his body until his clothes were soaked through and he was lying in a muddy puddle. Rayne took his mouth away and stroked his heatless fingers through Xander's hair soothingly.

"This will be so exciting, pet, you'll see," he said.

Xander tried to open his eyes, but the goop on his face made the process slow and painful as the fluid oozed stingingly into his eyes. Rayne was a dim, ill-defined figure in front of him. "Please, stop…" Xander said.

"Yeah, please stop."

* * *

Angel entered the cavern and saw Rayne leaning over Harris while the teenager pleaded. Angel ran and swung his fist at the warlock's face. "Yeah, please stop," he said as the blow sent Rayne flying to the back of the cavern. Angel looked down at Harris and saw her covered in a liquid that smelled like afterbirth. "Angel," she whispered when she saw him. The weakness in her usually assured voice brought out the chivalrous streak in Angel. 

Angel leaned down to pick her up, but stopped when he felt Rayne directly behind him. Stunned Rayne could sneak up on him so quickly and quietly Angel turned and swung his fist around to strike the wizard. Rayne leaned back and avoided the punch though, straightened and pressed his right hand flat against Angel's chest. Then a cold so deep and biting it hurt pierced through Angel and brought him to his knees. He almost didn't recognize what the feeling was. The closest he's come recently to experiencing legitimate cold was just before he lost his soul.

"I had no idea, Lord Janus," Rayne said, his voice reverent, jubilant. Angel looked up at the wizard from his knees and saw Rayne holding a yellowish ball of light in the palm of his hand. "I never dreamed such power lie in your domain."

Angel shivered wondering what Rayne held in his hand, and then he noticed a faint tendril of light leading from the ball of light to the center of his chest. "Oh, no! God, no," Angel cried. Rayne looked down at the vampire, his features eerily distorted by the glow emanating from Angel's soul.

"Don't worry, your soul-less antics are not my brand of chaos," Rayne said. "As a matter of fact, I think it might be interesting to see what kind of mess I can make giving you your soul, and so much more."

The blood in Angel's body was freezing, taking muscle with it. He didn't want any part of what Rayne had in store for him but he couldn't move. He could only watch as the wizard placed his other hand above Angel's soul and send a stream of blue light into it. The yellow and blue light warred for a few moments before deciding to coexist and swirled together in slow, yin-yang fashion. Rayne studied his handy work and smiled, then said, "I think this will do nicely."

Rayne theatrically blew on Angel's soul and it fluttered into Angel's chest, and warmth immediately returned to his body. Angel bowed his head in relief and gasped for much unneeded breath. When he raised his head Ethan Rayne was gone.

Angel stood and ran to Harris and scooped her up with his arms, took one last look around the cavern and realized Mythr's Clock was also missing. Cursing silently, Angel knew he couldn't do much about the missing artifact and left. He needed to make sure Rayne didn't make his way to the entrance and find the spot where Angel left the others to retrieve Harris. As he ran Angel wondered why he left the girl alone with the wizard in the first place. Giles would have been safer with Rayne.

Coming upon the cave system's entrance, Angel slowed and carefully slinked to the opening. When he was satisfied Rayne did not lie in wait he exited and jogged with Harris still in his arms to a small copse of trees where he placed his unconscious comrades. He was happy to see Buffy stirring, mumbling something about not wanting to wake up.

Angel set Harris down beside Giles. Harris was unconscious. Angel inspected his hands and sniffed them. The slimy substance transferred from Harris's clothes did smell like afterbirth, and once again Angel wondered what the hell happened to the girl. But since she didn't appear injured he forgot about her and checked Buffy. He placed his hand on the Slayer's shoulder and shook her gently, and after a moment or two she regained consciousness.

"Wow, what happened?"

"I'm not sure. Antonia said some magic hit you. How you feeling?"

Buffy did some quick internal inventory on herself. "I'm okay. What about the others?"

"Giles is good, but Willow needs medical attention. Harris is alright, as far as I can tell."

Buffy found her feet and rushed to Willow, as she assessed her friend's well being Giles was beginning to wake to the world. Buffy looked at Angel, her eyes glistened with concern for Willow. "Can you watch them while I get Willow to the hospital?"

"I know you're strong and fast, but I have a better idea," Angel replied.

Buffy gave the vampire a questioning glance as he knelt beside Harris and turned the girl on her side. Angel saw the small, square protrusion in the rear pocket of her blue jeans. Looking up at Buffy with a sheepish expression, Angel eased his hand into the pocket and pulled out the girl's cell phone. He tossed the phone to the Slayer and she deftly caught it in midair, she did not look happy with him. Buffy flipped the contraption open dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance. While she gave the dispatcher directions, Giles struggled up to awareness.

"Bloody hell, not again," the Watcher muttered, holding his hand to his forehead. Giles bolted upright. "Mythr's Clock!" he shouted.

"Gone. Ethan Rayne has it," Angel said.

"Good Lord, how did that happen?" Angel recounted to the Watcher everything that happened after Angel tried and failed to reset the Clock right up until he left the cavern with Willow, and then the snippets of information he noted retrieving Buffy and the Watcher and finally Harris. He left out the disturbing soul removal part, however. Angel wasn't sure how Giles would react, considering the last time Angel lost his soul a bunch of people died, including the woman the Watcher was in love with. Giles mulled over what Angel related then said, "I'll have to research much of what Ethan claimed, but it makes sense Mythr might place something like a "sacrificial barrier" on the Clock. We might never truly know what Ethan gained from siphoning power from it."

"I didn't see any other way to reset the Clock, if I had I wouldn't have given it to him."

"I'm not blaming you, Angel. Nothing of the sort, you had no choice."

"Are you okay, Giles?" Buffy asked, Harris's cell still in her hand but closed. Buffy was sitting on the ground legs extended, and had Willow's head resting on her lap.

"Quite alright. Willow?"

"I don't know, but an ambulance is on the way. Should be here in ten minutes."

"And Miss Harris?"

"Unconscious. I'm pretty sure Rayne did something to her, but I can't tell what," Angel answered.

"We'll tell the paramedics to look at her after they diagnose Willow," Giles said.

* * *

Xander snuggled into the bed beneath him and made sure the warm blanket over him covered every inch of his body, especially his feet. Except for a slight pinching in his left forearm, Xander was comfy. He was close to waking up but refused to give in to the urge to open his eyes. He was good at finding sleep in situations like this, good at finding ways to snatch a few more moments of sleep before his alarm clock bellowed at him. It was thinking about a clock that dredged up memories from the previous night. 

He jerked up then jerked backward and covered his eyes with his forearm to block out the stark brightness in his bedroom. "Gakk! Shazbot!" Xander grunted, and thought he might have some idea what vampires went through when they got a dose of sunlight. Sans the burning and smoking, of course. After blinking away the blobby spots on his retinas, Xander saw he was not in his bedroom, but in a hospital room. "'Splains why the sheets smell so spankin' fresh," he said murmured. His voice sounded croaky.

During a hearty yawn and some stretching Xander saw why his left forearm felt pinched. After looking over the IV line taped to a vein in his forearm Xander noticed his arm looked really, really scrawny and pale below the sleeve of his hospital gown… a hospital gown with pink flower print. Oooo-Kay. It was curious, of course, but then he noticed the TV attached to a small platform bolted to the ceiling and wall across from his hospital bed. Sufficiently distracted, Xander searched for the remote, wondering if his room had cable.

Xander was flipping through channels when a male nurse came into the room. Xander barely glanced at the nurse before he resumed avid television watching. "How are you feeling?" the nurse asked.

Xander grunted. He decided to find the Cartoon Channel. They always had on something worth watching.

"Uh, the doctor said you'll be off the Rehydralyte drip in no time. Can I get you another pillow?"

Xander shook his head. He found the Cartoon Channel and settled into an episode of Cow and Chicken. "How about some lunch? You missed the cart, but I can run down to the Cafeteria and pick you up something," the nurse said.

Xander thought about eating for a second, but dismissed the notion. He wasn't really hungry. He shook his head and focused on the TV again.

"Well, uh, okay. But if you need anything I'm just a button push away. My name is Danny, by the way."

The nurse was getting on Xander's nerves with his overly eager chatting and Xander wanted to ignore him until he went away. However he tore his gaze from the TV and acknowledged Danny with a polite smile. Xander had manners; he wasn't born in a barn, despite his mother's claims. The nurse was young, like twenty-something, freckled and redheaded. Danny looked like Opie Taylor all grown up, or at least the way Xander imagined the kid would grow up to look before Ron Howard totally screwed his prediction. The blue scrubs Danny wore hung loosely on his skinny frame. Xander said, "Nice to meet you. Name's Xa--"

Xander's voice broke off when his ears registered the way his voice sounded. He sounded so squeaky, like a girl. He cleared his throat and tried again. "My name is…" Nope, he still sounded like a girl.

"Antonia, I know. I read your chart," Danny said.

Xander stared at the nurse like he was crazy. Danny smiled brightly and came to stand by Xander's bed. "Like I said, if you need anything just press the call button and I'll come running."

Xander stared at the guy for a beat longer before he looked down and saw the front of his hospital gown had two protruding bumps that shouldn't have been there. And how the hell did he miss these… these… "Oh, my God! I got breasts!" Xander cried and grabbed the collar of his gown and pulled it away from his throat and looked down his front.

"Uh, excuse me?" Danny asked.

Xander looked back up, panic-stricken. "I've been given breasts! This hospital gave me breasts! You bastards!" he screamed.

Danny looked confused and backed away from the bed. "You weren't given any cosmetic surgery. You were admitted for acute dehydration and a laceration on your hand," he said soothingly, because he was obviously dealing with an unstable woman.

Xander didn't hear a word the nurse said because a horrific thought came to him. Throwing the blanket down to his knees, Xander gulped and with a lot of trepidation reached down and felt his crotch. He was definitely lacking bulge. Feeling faint, Xander squeaked, an honest to goodness squeak only a female, or a testicle-less men can accomplish, and collapsed onto his pillow. His vision was going dark and he felt cold all over. They took his penis. It was in a jar sitting on a shelf someplace… like a pale pickle. OhGodOhGodOhGod! Just before Xander slipped into a psychosomatic coma, he guessed in a year or two—assuming he didn't shoot himself first—he'd be a rich transsexual, because he was going to sue the hospital into oblivion.

* * *

Xander opened his eyes slowly, just a crack, he felt fingers gently brushing through his hair. His mother was sitting beside the bed; her expression was warm and gentle. He smelled the faint scent of moist flowers, his mother's perfume. And a hint of an aloe based moisturizer, which his mom applied religiously to her skin. Wrinkles thrive on dry skin, his mom claimed. His mother noticed his eyes were open and she took her hand away and placed it in her lap beside the other. The expression on her face was unreadable now. It was cold and very still. 

"How are you, Antonia?"

Xander blinked at his mother's clipped voice. He didn't know why she was calling him Antonia or why her voice was so cool towards him. He was used to her nit-picky, passive aggressive tone and to some lesser extent her whiny, drunk too much wine voice, and this tightly controlled coldness from her was entirely something new. His mother frowned, an air of impatience surrounding her, still waiting for Xander to answer.

"Uh, I'm fine. Fine." The sound of Xander's voice brought back the fact he now had bosoms and no penis. He felt woozy. He was going to pass out again.

"Good. Your father is talking to the doctor. He's very worried about you."

"Is that right? I guess it's a good thing he's already in a hospital then, with him on the verge of a crack overdose and all," Xander said, quipping on autopilot while he staved off fainting. His mother's frown deepened to almost anatomical improbability.

"There's my little girl!"

Xander turned his head and saw his father rushing toward him, grinning like a mad man. Before Xander could get a word out he was enveloped in a mighty hug. It was then Xander realized not only did he have breasts but he possessed a smaller frame as well. His dad's embrace practically swallowed him up and felt bone crushing.

"Hi… Dad," Xander greeted haltingly, this much affection coming from his dad was freaking him out. Hell, that the man bothered to show up to see him in the hospital at all was extremely odd, like Hellmouth odd.

Anthony Harris' hug tightened a little more before he released Xander and moved away. Xander flinched when he got a good look at his dad. For one, the tall, burly man appeared years younger than Xander remembered him ever looking. There was more dark blond hair on top his head, and his skin, usually rough-looking with a perpetual five-o'clock shadow and gin-blossoms, was clean-shaven and clear. Anthony's face had the same amount of age lines, but more of them originated from laughter, not years of hard alcohol abuse and bitterness.

"What's wrong, kiddo?" Anthony asked, flicking his thumb lightly across the tip of Xander's nose. The pad of his dad's thumb was soft.

"Nothing." Xander could still feel the tingle of his dad's touch on his nose and bowed his head and looked down at the swell of his shiny new breasts. Out the corner of his right eye, Xander noticed strands of dark red hair. He lifted his right hand and held the strands between his thumb and forefinger. Xander was a redhead, like his mother. Obviously everything is wrong and Xander was the only one aware of it. Xander was well versed in science fiction and he figured he was in an alternate reality, a reality where he happened to be a girl named Antonia. And his dad likes him… sorry, _her_.

So the question is how did this happen? Duh, stupid question, Ethan Rayne was responsible for Xander's current situation. Sending Xander to a different dimension and pouring him into his female doppelganger's body must have taken a massive effort of magic on the wizard's part, so the boost Rayne got from the box-clock must have been substantial—like Godzilla substantial.

Under normal circumstances Xander's first and only option would be to run like a little gir— baby to Giles, but given how he was in another reality or dimension or whatever, Giles could be a complete stranger here or not in the United States at all. If Buffy was a Slayer the odds of Giles being in the hemisphere went up significantly. Unless Buffy was dead… the thought chilled Xander and he shivered. _No, no use thinking like that_! _Let's be positive, okay_? Xander scolded his pessimistic side. _Okay, positive… this world probably doesn't have demons at all… or could be ruled by a secret Cabal of demons that kidnap people off the street and have them for dinner_. And, okay, so Xander wasn't the most positive person in the world, he was well aware of this. But the fact couldn't be ignored Xander might find this world to be completely different than his own. If his dad acted like Ward Cleaver and, let's face it, wasn't three sheets to wind by now then the limits to the freakiness were boundless.

"There is something wrong, young lady," Jessica Harris snapped, breaking Xander out of his thoughts.

Xander let go of his hair, looked at his mother and saw the same cool expression she'd worn when Xander woke up from his self-imposed coma. Her smooth, slender fingers locked together over her lap, her knees pressed together so tight you'd think she was wearing a skirt instead of a navy blue pantsuit.

"Honey," Anthony began, "she just woke up, let her alone."

Jessica shot a scathing glare at the man. Xander flinched and he wasn't even its target. His dad met the stare steady enough but didn't look like he wanted to volunteer more protests and fell silent. Wow, Xander expected a full-blown screaming match. Tony Harris never backed down from confrontation, and there was definitely an 'I dare you to keep talking' flavor to Jessica's glare.

"I for one would like to know why our daughter was running around the foot hills at all hours of the night, without permission!" Jessica said.

"I'm sure she has her reason--" Anthony started.

"Oh, for God's sake! You're always making excuses for her poor behavior, Tony! In case you haven't noticed she's laid up in the hospital and I demand an explanation as to why that is!"

Xander was at a loss, what could he to come up with so off the cuff? He remembered from his reality how Buffy and Willow thought up lies to tell their parents when they got hurt badly enough to warrant a hospital stay, but the few times he'd been hospitalized he never once needed to come up with an excuse for concussions or broken bones to tell his folks. That obviously wasn't going to fly here, his mom wanted an answer.

Explaining staying out late was easy, but the dehydration was going to be a problem. _Wait. Dehydration happens when your body loses a lot water, right_? Xander considered. _So maybe I can say I went hiking and forgot to bring water_. Xander mentally chided himself. _Yeah, right, because I take midnight hikes all the time! That's stupid… wait; maybe girl-me might get away with something like that_. Xander decided to try the lie out.

"I went for a hike and got lost."

Jessica's eyes pinned Xander and he saw that his excuse set off his mother's BS O'meter. "You went hiking. That's your excuse?"

_Dad's always telling me to take a hike_, Xander nearly blurted before he choked off the words. That might have been true where he came from, but here it wasn't God's Honest. "Well, yeah. It ended up that way. I just needed some time alone to think…" Xander said, then he had a burst of inspiration. "I'm graduating this year and I wanted to consider my options."

The best lies are always the ones mixed with the truth. Xander was pondering his upcoming graduation and what kind of future he was going to have. Willow and Buffy were off to college. The best schools in the world were seducing Willow, and Buffy already got her acceptance letter from Sunnydale University. Xander suspected his post-high school life was going to involve Burger World or their only real competitor in Sunnydale, Double Meat Palace.

Jessica suddenly looked pale and her lips pressed together so hard they were whiter than the rest of her face. Aware he made a mistake, Xander looked at his dad and saw a similar look of dismay on Anthony's face. "Are you saying you're reconsidering your enrollment at UCLA?" Jessica asked.

"UCLA?" Xander parroted back at his mother.

"I suggest you reconsider again, young lady! Your father and I have already paid for two years worth of tuition. It's non-refundable."

Xander quite simply had no response to that.


	2. Chapter 2

Gender Theory Part 2

Note: I was going to go a whole different direction with this part, then all of a sudden, wham! Sex scene. Hopefully it's not so graphic it'll get booted from the site.

* * *

His parents left hours ago, Jessica walked out of the room livid and didn't say goodbye. Anthony gave Xander a kiss on the cheek and sheepish smile then told him they'd be back tomorrow to bring him home. Xander laid in the hospital bed feeling like he was in alternate universe… oh, right, he was. He tried to absorb what little information he gleaned from his folks during their hour-long visit. Granted his mother yelled at him for the better part of that hour, but Xander was still able to figure a few things out.

The scariest was that girl-him was good at school. Xander had a feeling if Antonia didn't have book learning on her side Jessica would be a whole lot less nice and understanding. Considering his mom wasn't exactly any of those things in the first place… gulp.

The most disheartening fact he learned was that Anthony never heard of Willow Rosenberg. Xander asked if Willow was checked into the same hospital and Anthony gave him a blank look then asked if she was one of Xander's friends. Jessica wasn't talking to Xander by then so if she knew Willow she didn't say. Xander mulled over his non-friend-ness with Willow and was led unwillingly down paths he didn't want to go. He wondered what kind of person girl-him was that Willow was a stranger and what kind of person Willow might be that girl-him didn't see what he saw when he first met Willow.

Xander didn't bother mentioning Buffy or Giles to his parents because if Willow wasn't a known bud then the Slayer and her Watcher probably weren't Antonia's friends either. Still, he needed to find out for sure. Xander pressed the call button and a minute later a female nurse entered the room.

_Looks like I scared Danny boy away_, Xander thought after seeing the plump, gray haired woman in a light pink nurses uniform.

"Is everything alright?" the nurse asked.

"May I please have a phone?"

The nurse smiled broadly and said, "Why sure! I bet there's someone special you want to talk to, isn't there, sweetheart? I'll have someone come hook one up for you right away."

"Thanks," Xander replied, the nurse's insinuation was not lost on him but he had too much on his mind to figure out why she acted like they had some big secret between them. The nurse winked at him then left. Ten minutes later a maintenance man arrived and installed a push button phone in the room on the nightstand next to the bed. When the man was gone Xander picked up the receiver and dialed Buffy's long ago memorized phone number, praying it was identical in this reality. The phone rang twice before someone picked up on the other end.

"Hello?" it was Mrs. Summers.

"Hi, Mrs. Summers, this is… Antonia Harris, a friend of your daughter," I hope so, anyway, "may I speak to her?"

"Antonia?"

"Yes." Xander didn't like the note of uncertainty in Mrs. Summers' voice. He wasn't surprised she didn't know him but it sucked to hear her suspicion of him.

"I'm sorry, she's out with friends tonight."

"Do you know if they're at the Bronze?" Xander asked, though he knew Mrs. Summers was lying about Buffy being with friends. It was possible Buffy was at the Bronze, but not very likely. If this reality's timeline was in any way similar to his then Mrs. Summers was covering for Buffy.

"I-I'm not sure, they might have gone to a movie," Joyce said.

"That's okay, I'll catch up with her at school."

"Wait, would you like to leave a message for her?"

"I… no. I was just calling to say hi. Goodbye, Mrs. Summers."

"Goodbye, Antonia."

Xander hung up and sighed. That settles that, Antonia definitely was not in the know. Which meant Giles would not be talkative when some chick he didn't know from Suzy came to him with stories about Chaos Wizards, alternate realities, and gender switches.

And Speaking of chicks he didn't know… Xander kept putting it off but he knew he'd have to face it eventually. There was no better time to do that than now, while he was alone and guaranteed some modicum of privacy. Sliding from under the covers, Xander swung off the bed and stood barefoot on the cold linoleum floor. Grabbing the IV pole with his left hand, Xander padded over to the bathroom inside his room and stepped inside.

Confronted by his reflection in the mirror above the sink, now it was real. He really was a girl. It was like as long as he didn't look at his chest and ignored the extra space between his thighs he could live in his thoughts where he was 100 male and no one could tell him different. But the mirror in front of him displayed the undeniable truth. Xander did have red hair. It was longish, a girl or a boy could wear the style—if the boy was secure enough in his masculinity, or was a J-Pop singer. Not only did Xander have hair the same shade of red as his mother's, but he looked like her, too. He was younger, but there was no doubt Jessica squeezed Antonia from her loins.

_Ew. I could have phrased that better._

He was fine boned, but there was nothing weak about his features. In fact everything was too sharp; his nose was narrow and pointed, his jaw-line was square and strong, but his chin was like the tip of a dagger. Xander felt his cheekbones; they were high but invisible underneath healthy cheeks. His complexion was beige. Not unlike his real skin, just softer and smoother, with much less stubble.

Xander always wanted poutier lips, lips like Brad Pitt, hell, he wanted to look like Brad Pitt, but since there was only so much plastic surgery could accomplish he settled for coveting the movie star's lips. As a girl Xander got his wish. They weren't lusciously plump, like, say, Angelina Jolie's, but they would have held Xander captivated if wrapped around a banana. His eyes were the same color as they were in his real body; even the shape of them was the same. He was sort of pretty.

Xander dared look further down his new body and felt heat rise in his cheeks. He quickly closed then locked the bathroom door. Reaching behind his back Xander pulled on the tie-strings of his gown and loosened them. The gown slipped off his shoulders and he stopped it from falling farther. Xander took a deep breath, steadied himself then let the gown fall from his bosom, catching the top of it with his forearms at his stomach.

"Whoa," Xander whispered, "I got nice tits."

And he did, too. Smaller than most guys would have preferred, most guys being Xander, but he was by no means flat. His breasts were round, about the size of grapefruits and appeared firm. His nipples were pale pink and, man, he was pointy everywhere it seemed. Xander wanted to touch them but felt weird and decided to check out the rest of his new body instead. He dropped the gown a little more and saw his stomach was flat and toned, beyond toned actually. He had a scary looking six-pack; veins were popping out and everything. Xander ran his fingers over his belly and traced the muscles and they felt as hard as they looked.

"Damn, what is she? Some kind of fitness freak?"

Eager to see what else this body had to offer, Xander maneuvered the gown around the IV and got naked. Hey, he really was a red head! Xander gave him self a good once over and found he probably had more muscle now than he did in his guy body. Judging by the rest of him it was a wonder he didn't have man-arms. His hips flared pleasantly enough and his thighs were slender and well defined, but his calves could have belonged to a pro soccer player—they literally bulged with muscle. Xander looked over his shoulder and found his ass was also a bit too muscle-y and curved out like a gymnast's: it wasn't too bad, though.

_Oh, yeah, no doubt about it, girl-me spends lots of time in a gym._

Antonia certainly had a fit body. It just wasn't to Xander's taste. Antonia's face was nice but her body was overly athletic. Xander liked women who had softer, more delicate bodies. Yeah, he had a mad crush on Buffy who could kick his ass if both her arms were broken, but she was still petite. And, no, Cordelia wasn't diminutive like Buffy; she was taller and built from years of cheerleading. Yet Cordelia's shape possessed very womanly, mouth-watering curves. Antonia looked like one of those 'after' women in rip-off weight loss commercials—just obscenely in shape.

Xander tied his gown back on and stepped closer to the sink. He turned on the water, leaned over and drank from the tap. His dry mouth cured, Xander turned off the water and left the bathroom. He climbed back into bed covered himself and once again was captured by depressing silence. He wanted to call Willow very, very badly.

Xander didn't have high hopes of solving this predicament by himself. He needed help. And he needed some comfort as well, someone to tell him things would work out fine and there'd be brownies afterwards. Xander quelled his need for co-dependency, though, knowing he could not glean comfort from this reality's Willow. Actually, the way things were back home, his Willow wasn't brimming with the need to console him, either. Not after they agreed to keep their distance.

The agreement was primarily Willow's idea. She wanted to get back what she and Oz had before she and Xander were discovered in the factory, leaving Xander no choice but to comply rather he wanted to or not. Xander turned on his side and burrowed underneath the covers and enjoyed the feel of the plump pillow beneath his head. He closed his eyes. _One good thing about being in this reality is that there's no chance I ruined my relationship with Cordelia_, Xander thought. _Unless Antonia and Cordelia are lesbians, or something_.

Xander's eyes flew open.

The nurse from the night before carefully pulled Xander's IV out of his arm then covered the insertion point with an alcohol soaked cotton ball and a strip of medical tape. Xander's dad was coming to pick him up within the hour. Xander was ready to leave the hospital and find Giles, or failing that, Willow and Buffy. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell them, even on the Hellmouth his circumstances were not of the norm. They might not believe him, but Xander knew he had to get them to listen and help him.

The nurse, whose name was Bridgett, allowed Xander out of the bed and he began searching the room for the clothes he had on from the night before last. He didn't find them, but discovered a bag under the bed Tony and Jessica must have brought from home. Inside were women's clothes, toiletries and 'feminine items'. Cringing as he scrounged through the bag, Xander looked for something he wasn't too opposed to wearing. Eventually he decided on black jeans and short-sleeved tie-dyed shirt and white sneakers. He didn't put on socks, and completely by-passed wearing bra and panties. Xander went into the bathroom to put on the ensemble, he groaned when he discovered the shirt showed off his belly button. God, that was so girly! The pants fit well—they weren't too tight or too loose. At least girl-him liked comfortable pants the same as him.

When Xander came out of the bathroom the nurse was gone and in her place a man was sitting on the bed, smiling at him. Actually, the man was more like kid. He was about the same age as Xander, the impression he was older came from the fact he was huge. Suddenly, Xander didn't feel as critical of Antonia's body, this guy who had muscles on top of muscles was definitely more male shaped than Antonia. The kid stood when he saw Xander. He wore a black sleeveless T-shirt, blue jeans and a pair of Hi-tops; the guy had arms like Rambo—if Sylvester Stallone shaved his head, and was a six-foot-two black guy, that is.

Xander scowled. He'd thought the kid was a stranger at first, but he wasn't. Xander recognized him—he was a football player at Sunnydale High.

"Stop me if you've heard this one," LaShon says. "Two sailors on shore leave are walking down the street. They spot a beautiful blonde. First sailor asks his friend, 'Have you ever slept with a blonde?'

"Second sailor replies that he has, they walk on further and see an even more beautiful brunette.

First Sailor asks, 'Have you ever slept with a brunette?' And the Second Sailor replies, 'Why yes, in fact I've slept with brunettes on many occasions.'

"They walk on a little further, and see a gorgeous redhead, who leaves the other two girls for dead. The first Sailor asks, 'Have you ever slept with a redhead?'

"His companion looks at him and replies, 'Not a wink.'"

Xander laughed at the joke then realized he's a redhead now and felt offended. Before he could express his outrage to Mister Star Quarterback, Xander found himself in the guy's arms. LaShon Whitney wasn't the worst jock on Sunnydale High's football team, he never went out of his way to pick on Xander, but he laughed with his buddies on the team when they made fun of people, Xander included. So it was very confusing to Xander that LaShon would be using his tongue to mine the inside of his mouth. After about ten seconds things got really scary, because Xander should have pushed away from LaShon and made some doomed attempt to reinforce his manliness by punching LaShon out.

Except the last thing Xander felt like doing was getting away from LaShon, his mighty hug, or his mouth. Being the focus of all that felt so… not bad. Everything about the guy embracing him made Xander melt into a weak, pathetic lump of squiggly nerves. His stomach was vibrating and his heart felt like it had swelled ten times its original size in his chest. Crowding out Xander's lungs so he couldn't breathe.

Then there was the heat and squeezing sensation in his groin. Xander didn't understand what that feeling was or why his body felt it. Xander did absolutely nothing when LaShon picked him up off his feet and pressed him against the wall. And it was as though his body wanted to do things independent of his will. Xander's legs found their way around LaShon's really trim waist, his knees bent over LaShon's hip bones and the back of his calves rested on the slope of LaShon's ass. Xander couldn't help noticing LaShon's ass was very, very firm and very, very muscular. Then LaShon humped into Xander, his ass contracting tighter under Xander's calves. LaShon was large and erect and illustrated such by grinding hard between Xander's thighs.

A scream burst out of Xander, the tension building in his groin swelled until he thought something inside of him was going to rupture into a million pieces. LaShon swallowed the cry, laughed, and pressed in even harder against Xander with his whole body. It was a convolution of events that cleared Xander's head: his hands of their own volition slid up under LaShon's shirt from his sides and glided from the small of his back all the up to his shoulder blades. LaShon's skin was hot and smooth and his muscle tone was solid. Xander wished he could see LaShon without his shirt on.

The thought just popped into his head as easily as his fantasy about a naked Pamela Anderson showing up in his bedroom offering take care of all his manly needs. Xander stopped kissing LaShon back and let his hands slide out of the other boy's shirt. The weirdness that made him think making out with some guy was desirable began to wilt. Xander's head was almost clear when LaShon, perhaps misinterpreting Xander's actions, put his hands under Xander's tie-dye and cradled his breasts. His hands were so large, and Xander's breasts were so small, they covered them like a bra.

_Oh my_…! Xander grabbed LaShon by his arms, his fingers digging into the other boy's biceps. The back of his head banged against the wall, his mouth breaking contact with LaShon's allowing another scream to emerge unobstructed.

Xander rarely played with his nipples when he jerked off, he didn't think they were very sensitive in his real body. Faith during their one night of evidently meaningless passion, licked his nipples and that felt awful good at the time. It helped put a little more starch in his shorts before the real action started. But somehow just the feel of LaShon's rough palms touching his nipples made Xander want to scream. Hell, he did scream. His nipples were unbelievably sensitive.

Xander's insides began swelling again, making his internal organs feel like air-filled balloons and each one was vying for dwindling space inside his body. Xander was aroused. It was an odd, alien feeling. Arousal used to be a boner, his heart beating fast, and a rigidity in his back. But the tenseness running through his body now was like constantly being on the verge of ejaculating and not being able to unload. Xander's whole body was shaking with need, tensed to the point the muscles in his arms and legs and belly were contracting involuntarily. It was nothing compared to the madness going on in his pelvis, though. It was driving Xander crazy.

"If hospitals make you like this maybe I need to bring you here more often," LaShon said.

LaShon swung them around and moved across the room to the bed. LaShon dropped them onto it him on top of Xander, his weight not alleviating Xander's inability to breathe. Which as it turns out wasn't much of an issue because LaShon rose and pried Xander's legs from around his waist. He undid Xander's pants with one of his hands and squeezed Xander's left breast with the other. The sensation distracted Xander, it must have. There was no other explanation for his pants coming down so easily without a fight.

"Jesus, Antonia, no underwear," LaShon whispered.

LaShon got Xander's pant down around his thighs and stopped, then suddenly Xander felt two of LaShon's thick fingers brush against his vagina. The tips of his fingers stroking up and down between the labia while his thumb manipulated Xander's engorged clitoris. Xander saw double and he tried to squirm away from LaShon's touch. As wonderful as LaShon made him feel, Xander knew what they were doing—what he was allowing LaShon to do—was wrong: because he was not a girl, damn it! He was a guy, vagina to the contrary, and he shouldn't be enjoying this like he was.

"You okay?" LaShon asked, his thumb still swirling around Xander's clit. Xander though LaShon was a complete idiot for asking him anything while he touched him that way. Xander couldn't even think straight enough to do what he knew was right and make the guy stop!

LaShon peeled Xander's jeans all the way off, which sort of made Xander's attention perk up, not enough, though. LaShon dug his fingers under Xander's thighs and thrust his hips forward. The shock of penetration made Xander's senses go haywire. He had tunnel vision; he could hardly see four inches in front of his face. Yet his hearing became hyper sensitive; he heard his body take LaShon inside. At first the feeling of LaShon entering him felt a bit uncomfortable. Then LaShon shifted his position by bending his knees more and jabbed his hips forward again. And suddenly it was like their genitals locked and fused together.

And it felt so good! Xander sat up so he could see what the guy was doing to him. Then wished he just stayed where he was. LaShon hadn't taken his pants off he just unbuttoned and unzipped them. A dark bush of pubic hair showed and extending beyond that was his erection. It was actually a shade or two darker than the rest of his body, if his arms were any indication, and to Xander's horror it was only half way in. Xander swallowed hard, and seriously considered pushing LaShon away from him, because what LaShon already had inside of him made Xander feel full. So if the whole thing went in it'd probably rip him apart.

Xander didn't push LaShon out, he reached up, grabbed LaShon's shoulders and pulled LaShon's chest against his. Then he hooked his heels behind LaShon's calves. Xander wanted to find out how good sex would feel in this female body he was stuck with, pain be damned. So far, it was more exciting than when he screwed Faith. It didn't necessarily feel better, just different, and it was something Xander would never experience win his real body in a million years.

Xander expected the full feeling to increase when LaShon buried the rest of his cock inside him, but he only felt LaShon about four or five inches past the opening of his vagina. Beyond that, Xander didn't feel a whole lot—except a little stretched, maybe. LaShon groaned with satisfaction and leaned forward and began pumping his hips. And there it was: the first stroke took Xander's breath away and sweat popped up in beads on his skin. The next made him lose feeling in his arms and legs.

Then for some inexplicable reason, LaShon was gone. The abrupt emptiness was jarring and Xander looked up at LaShon, his eyes blinking away tears he didn't know were there. LaShon's cock was still erect and smacked against the front of his shirt. It was wet and shiny. LaShon hefted the shaft and stuffed himself back into his jeans.

After zipping and fastening his jeans he said, "Damn, I'm sorry, baby. You usually stop me before we get that far."

Xander was so outraged he was speechless. He felt cheated. LaShon lowered onto Xander and started kissing his neck. "Forgive me?"

Xander wished he had a blunt instrument on hand to bludgeon LaShon with. Forgive him? Not ever! Right now he felt ten times worse than getting some hot over the clothes action with Cordy only to have her push him off before he got to make an embarrassing stain in his boxers. Blue balls didn't compare to the sense of frustration, this need to… to… Goddamn it, Xander missed out on multiple orgasms! He just knew it! How like a guy to leave a girl unsatisfied!

"I'll remember to bring something next time, promise," LaShon said and moved off Xander.

_Bring something_?_ What the hell is he talking about_? Xander wondered. LaShon retrieved Xander's jeans and eased Xander's legs into them. Xander watched silently and lifted his hips up when LaShon brought the jeans under his butt.

When LaShon began fastening them it hit Xander what the other boy meant by "bring something". With understanding came absolute terror. Any lust he had left over evaporated in an instant. The constriction in his pelvis loosened and all the heat under his skin cooled down. Somehow, Xander forgot he had ovaries and a uterus. If LaShon had came inside him…

"We can finish that tonight, if your folks let you out of the house," LaShon said while he put Xander shoes back on his feet like Prince-Freaking-Charming. When he was finished he stood then bent down and kissed Xander on the lips. Xander almost threw up. "You ready to go?"

"R-R-Ready?" Xander said brokenly, still feeling nauseous.

"Your pops asked me to bring you home."

"Oh." Xander felt like throwing up again. God, what was he thinking fucking this guy when his parents could have walked in on them at any second!

"C'mon, the nurse's got a wheelchair waiting for your cute little invalid ass in the hall," LaShon said.

LaShon picked up the clothes bag and slid its strap over his right shoulder, then grabbed Xander's hand and pulled him off the bed to his feet. While he led Xander out of the room Xander wondered how gay and insane was his life going to get before he returned home.

Nurse Bridgett was waiting for them. The moment Xander sat in the wheelchair she started giving his instructions. "You need drink at eight glasses of water a day for the next five days." Bridgett said, walking along side LaShon as he pushed the wheelchair.

"Stay away from soda, juice, and sports drinks, unless their electrolyte-balanced, since they can all promote diarrhea and vomiting. Of course, I don't have to tell you zero alcohol, do I?" Bridgett concluded.

Xander assured her she didn't. He told Bridgett goodbye before LaShon wheeled him through the hospital's sliding doors. LaShon hummed a tune Xander never heard before until they came upon a shiny black pick-up truck. One of those late model trucks with four doors and back seats; Xander didn't know a lot about cars, but even he knew LaShon's ride cost some serious dough. LaShon opened the truck and placed the bag in the rear, then helped Xander up into the front passenger seat.

LaShon took the wheelchair back. Alone in the truck Xander whistled at its interior. Talk about decked out! After LaShon returned he started the engine and they pulled out of the parking lot.

"So, care to explain how you got yourself dehydrated so bad it put you in the hospital?" LaShon asked after a few minutes.

"Hiking," Xander answered casually. He had no problem lying to this guy. The bastard almost knocked him up!

"Hiking? No shit! You should have asked me to go with you. Girl, you know how much I love hiking!"

Xander turned his head and looked at LaShon. He was staring straight ahead with a smile on his face. Xander didn't like the way the guy was talking; He sounded sarcastic to Xander's ear. "I needed some time… to think. Alone," Xander said.

"Hmm."


	3. Chapter 3

Gender Theory 3

* * *

LaShon parked the truck in front of an unfamiliar house. Xander assumed it was LaShon's—why he brought them, Xander had no idea. _Maybe to pick up some condoms_, he thought miserably.

LaShon reached into the back seat and grabbed Xander's clothes bag then climbed out of the truck. He came around and opened the passenger's side door. He looked at Xander expectantly, waiting for him to slide out and join him on the curb.

Xander stared back, thinking there was no chance in hell he was visiting the rich boy's fancy-smancy house. He refused to spend another minute with LaShon, let alone his family, especially after boning the guy less than fifteen minutes ago.

Besides, what would he talk about?

_Hi, Mrs. Whitney, I had sex with your son at the hospital. Now that's what I call Sexual Healing! Did I forget to mention I'm really a man in a woman's body_?

That's exactly how it'd go, too. Besides having first hand knowledge LaShon wasn't a virgin Xander didn't know shit else about him. Well, he did know one other thing about LaShon: he had a girlfriend who put out. _God, talk about embarrassing_!

"You want me to carry you?" LaShon asked without an ounce of mockery in his voice.

"No," Xander said. "Look… LaShon, I'm kind of tired and I'd like to go home, please."

LaShon gave him a look then placed the back of his hand against Xander's forehead. "Are you okay?"

Xander thoughts went all kablooey when LaShon touched him. LaShon's skin felt exciting and familiar on his. Xander didn't have to imagine how strong those hands were because LaShon used some of that strength on him. Xander also knew how dexterous those fingers were. They did all kinds of pleasurable—wrong, very wrong things to his girl-body.

"I'm fine," Xander answered, trying to make himself calm down. He was relieved when LaShon took his hand away, because that helped.

"You don't remember where you live," LaShon said. "I say that's a problem."

Xander looked passed LaShon's shoulder and at the humongous two-story house behind him. It looked like the house from _Leave it to Beaver_, except bigger, more pretentious. A path leading up to the porch was puzzled together with white stones that might have been marble. The lawn was so green and perfectly groomed it looked like it belonged on a studio lot, too. Xander really wondered where the white picket fence was. Adjoining the house was a two-door garage and a driveway paved with the same kind of stone that made up the path.

Xander swung his head forward and looked out the windshield. When he saw the street they were on his brain was even less able of accepting what LaShon was telling him.

It wasn't Cordelia's neighborhood, where the cheapest home would run you a couple million easy, but it was affluent enough that the Anthony and Jessica from his reality would be paying off the mortgage for forty years. Or until they died—which ever came first.

"Antonia?" LaShon said when Xander'd been staring and silent for a minute. Xander faced him, but still couldn't speak.

"I'm… Okay. I just spaced out for a second," Xander responded finally, in control of himself now.

LaShon nodded then put his arm around Xander's waist and carefully assisted him out of the truck. Thankfully, LaShon chose to take Xander at his word and didn't ask more questions.

They walked up the white path to the fairer porch. LaShon knocked on the door, not using the brass knocker below the peephole but his knuckles.

Xander held his breath. He expected his mother to come to the door, and he wasn't up to dealing with her. He didn't have to worry because the woman who opened the door was not Jessica. An older woman with white hair pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head greeted them. She wore a gray maid's uniform.

"Gotta be kidding me," Xander muttered under his breath.

She waved them inside silently. She didn't smile or offer salutations. Xander tried not to react when he saw the interior of the house, but it was hard. It was like walking into a Nineteenth century domicile. The floors seemed to be entirely hardwood, buffed and shined slick as glass. Everything looked ancient, brown, and expensive. It was the kind of place where kids aren't supposed to run or play. Where touching stuff got the back of your hand smacked soundly.

Chillingly, it reminded Xander of his maternal grandmother's house.

LaShon led him to a flight of stairs. The maid, or maybe the housekeeper, didn't object to LaShon taking Xander upstairs to what he assumed was Antonia's bedroom.

At the top of the stairs was a brief landing which lead into a long hallway with nine doors: four on the left, four on the right and one in the center at the end of the hallway.

_Jesus, think they got enough room_, is what Xander wanted to know.

LaShon continued to lead Xander down the hall, a single light fixture hanging from the ceiling illuminating their way. They stopped in front of the third door on the right and LaShon opened it. Xander let out a sigh of relief when he saw Antonia's room wasn't like the museum downstairs. He was doubly happy to see it wasn't pink and loaded with dolls, either.

The room had gray carpeting and the curtains over the window matched. Even the wallpaper was gray, which was a nice neutral non-color in Xander's opinion. On either side of to the four-poster bed sat nightstands with a small lamp on each of them. A writing desk and chair was across from the bed. On top of the desk sat a computer, a real nice one, too. Xander remembered Willow salivating over one just like it at the Radio Shack in the mall. There was a bendy-neck lamp on the desk as well. There was a light fixture embedded in the ceiling, it was off like the three lamps and only natural light brightened the room.

There were two doors in the room—one to the right of the window next to the desk, and another to the left of the window beside the bed.

Antonia's bedroom was larger than his bedroom back home and it was neater. And the closest Xander had to a computer was his watch calculator.

Xander sat on the bed and watched LaShon walk to the other side of the room to the door by the nightstand. It had to lead to a closet, he guessed. LaShon opened it and bent forward to push the bag to the back of the closet; Xander averted his eyes when he realized he was admiring LaShon's ass.

LaShon returned and sat next to him on the bed. He curled his arm around Xander's middle, his fingers sneaking up past the hem of the tie-dye. "I can hang out if you want," he said, as he began rubbing the tips of his fingers against Xander's skin.

It was Xander's belief he had enough of LaShon's "hanging out" to last a lifetime. So he stretched his arms out in front of him, and after an exaggerated yawn he said, "Nah, I should get some rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure. I'm gonna konk out any second," Xander assured the other boy.

"Alright, then. That Rosenberg chick said she'd Email your homework to your Yahoo account."

"Rosenberg chick? You mean Willow Rosenberg." Xander hoped that's whom LaShon meant.

"I thought you'd want to do some schoolwork while you're recuperating."

Xander didn't want to catch up on his schoolwork, obviously, but LaShon's words made him ecstatic. If Willow was handing out assignments that meant she was teaching Ms. Calendar's Computer Science class. Computer Science was the only class at Sunnydale High that sent homework over the Internet.

Willow was alive. Xander had been frightened, on a subconscious level at least, that she died in this reality. It was kind of self-absorbed of him but Xander believed one of them had to be dead not be the other's best friend, regardless of the reality they were in. Like only death could keep them apart. But it wasn't the grave that made them strangers, or passing acquaintances, but a chromosomal happenstance.

LaShon kissed him on the temple. "Call me tonight, okay?" he said then got up to leave.

"Right." Xander would not call him tonight, or any other night. He was going to be a quadrillion miles from here before night's end.

LaShon left. And took with him the knot in Xander's stomach. It was disgust. Of course it was disgust causing the tension. Having sex with LaShon was completely foul—there was no way Xander was lusting for more… just no way.

* * *

It was getting dark and that meant the Bronze was about to open. If he was going he needed to leave now before it got too dark. Xander's conversation with Mrs. Summers had him convinced Buffy was slaying, which meant there had to be Vampires out there to be slain.

Before Xander got off the bed, he heard a faint chirping from the nightstand closest to him. After a moments hesitation Xander opened the top drawer and found a cell phone. He scooped up the device, flipped it open and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"So, you out?" the girl on the other end asked.

"Er… yeah," Xander answered.

"I totally would have visited yesterday, but you know, Bathelzar had an opening and you just don't cancel on Bathelzar! You okay then?"

"Yeah—"

"Great! We're going to the Bronze, of course—wanna come?"

"I was thinking about it."

"I guess you shouldn't drive, huh? I'll pick you up. Oh yeah, the Hosluttramp's going to be there with you-know-who."

"Really?" Xander asked, though he was more interested in who the hell he was talking to.

"At least we can talk about her clothes and her unfortunate complexion. And if she's actually looking decent, we'll make up shit to insult."

"Right."

"Twenty minutes."

"Okay."

"See ya."

The girl hung up.

"I wonder if I just agreed to be picked up by a demon," Xander wondered aloud as he flipped the cell phone closed. "It wouldn't be the first time." But at least he had safe way to get to the Bronze.

Xander checked behind the other door and found a complete bathroom. It was nothing extravagant, it was actually very standard: a ceramic sink, a cabinet with a couple of drawers comprised the vanity. The mirror on wall above the vanity also doubled as a medicine cabinet. A long blue throw rug covered the white tile floor, which lay next to a bone-white claw foot bathtub. The commode was unadorned the way a toilet should be.

Xander wanted to shower before he broke out of the mausoleum, but that was obviously out of the question. He noticed a small plastic stand attached to the end of the tub opposite its faucets. On it sat bottles of shampoo, conditioner, bubble bath, and a naked bar of Dove soap.

Xander hasn't taken a bath since he was twelve-years-old. Twelve was when he learned to love showers because jacking off was easier standing.

He began running water in the tub, placing his fingers under the spout to test the temperature and adjusting it accordingly. He jammed in the rubber stopper then poured a capful of bubble bath into the water. He found clean towels under the sink, made himself blind to the Massengill also in there and picked out a body towel and a face towel. Xander hung the larger towel on the towel rod on the wall then folded the smaller over the edge of the tub.

While the bath filled, Xander stripped off his clothes. He shut off the spout then stepped inside tub and settled into the steaming bubbly water with a contented sigh. Then let out a short cry when his nipples dipped below the waterline.

_Jesus Christ! And I thought dunking my nuts in hot water stung_! Xander thought as he tried to get used to his tits boiling in the heat.

Xander thought about continuing his daily ritual of masturbating while bathing but couldn't bring himself to go through with it in Antonia's body. He already felt a little guilty about having sex with her boyfriend while she—technically—wasn't present to enjoy it.

Xander stopped moving the wash towel over his arm and remembered how much _he_ enjoyed it. He shook off the memory and diligently went back to cleaning himself. "No need to think about any more dirty-wrong-things," he mumbled.

Anyway, touching his woo-ha, or rather Antonia's woo-ha, felt just enough like a violation Xander resolved there'd be no touching down there except to wash. When Xander finished washing his hair he got out of the tub and pulled the stopper in the tub. He dried off then left the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist before he remembered he had more to hide than before.

Xander checked the closet and made a face at the selection of clothes he found—a bunch of dresses and blouses, girls stuff. Where were the jeans and T-shirts, Xander knew she had them. After a little more searching, Xander located a dresser under the bed, actually it was part of the bed frame. Xander found the threads he was looking for inside: a pair of jeans that had rips in several places—they were so Eighties—and a plain black T-shirt. There were socks in the dresser, too, and Xander put on a pair then went back into the bathroom and wore the shoes he left in there.

He was set—except for money. He could hardly avail himself of the Bronze's admittedly few amenities without cash to purchase them with. He couldn't ask Antonia's folks for money, it'd feel weird, even though they seemed to be rolling in wealth and could certainly spare a few bucks. Then Xander remembered he saw a purse in the closet. After a brief search inside the purse, Xander found a woman's wallet. The kind of over-sized thing girls kept their address book and credit cards as well as cash in. Xander didn't find cash, but he did find two credit cards with Antonia's name on them.

Xander never had a credit card and wasn't sure how to go about using one. He decided to take them, he remembered enough about Cordelia using her plastic to know he wouldn't have to give a PIN to buy stuff at the Bronze, just a signature that no one really looks at. He didn't feel guilty about using the cards, it wasn't as though he was going to put a down payment on a Convertible, and a few bottled waters was hardly going to leave Antonia with a huge debt to pay after he was gone.

After more deliberation, Xander also stuffed the cell phone in his back pocket. Then, finally, he was ready to go.

* * *

From the top of the stairs, Xander saw the white haired woman move pass the bottom landing like a phantom. She didn't appear to be doing anything in particular, but she held a feather duster in her hand and her head swept from side to side like some Aunt Bee Terminator hunting specks of dust. He waited until she walked out of sight before creeping down the stairs to the front door. Xander had no idea if the woman intended to stop him from leaving, but he wasn't taking chances. He had to make contact with Buffy and Willow.

The sun was minutes away from setting below the horizon. Xander stood on the porch and watched the street. He didn't want to wait on the curb for his ride, whoever they were, because he didn't want the housekeeper to see him from any of the house's many windows.

He wasn't too worried about his folks catching him. If the mysterious girl stayed true to her word, she'd arrive in a few minutes. The chances of either Anthony or Jessica showing up before her were so slim… well Xander doubted even his luck was that crappy. Then he thought about it for a second, and after a quick calculation of the terrifying incidences that happened to him when he thought like that, Xander started preying for the girl to show up already.

A minute later, a sporty red convertible pulled up to the curb in front of the house. The top was up, the windows were down, and Xander heard The Backstreet Boys crooning from the car's speakers. He wasn't a friend with anyone from his world with a car like that. He rushed down the stone path before the driver honked their horn and attracted unwanted attention. Xander hardly believed his eyes when he saw Harmony Kendall sitting behind the wheel.

"Are you wearing that?" she asked.

"Harmony?"

"Duh. Get in—Cordy's going to have a herd if she shows up without her court waiting for her." Harmony rolled her eyes then faced forward and drummed her hands against the steering wheel to _I Want It That Way_ like it had a funky beat.

_Oh, my God, I'm a Cordette_! The realization staggered Xander and he nearly ran back into the house screaming in abject horror. But he needed to get to the Bronze and find his friends, so he screwed up his courage, crossed himself and got in the car.

* * *

Xander listened to Harmony gossip all the way to the Bronze. None of the jabber was useful. He didn't know most of the people Harmony talked about. At first, Xander wondered how he was going to hold up his end of any conversation, but Harmony was more than happy to do all the talking. When they got to the Bronze, the parking lot was half full and small groups of teenagers were trooping towards the front entrance.

"Cordy's not here yet," Harmony said when she scanned the cars in the parking lot and didn't see Cordelia's. "Thank god. Don't need to hear her bitching tonight. Devon's out of town, I'm horny and cranky as hell!" By the time Harmony found an empty parking space under a street lamp, Xander convinced himself he never heard Harmony say that.

Harmony paid both their cover charges. Xander promised to pay for food and drinks. He followed her across the not yet crowded dance floor to an empty booth. Xander scanned for Buffy and Willow but didn't see them. He decided to wait an hour, if they didn't show he'd go to the high school. Xander wanted to talk to Buffy and Willow before approaching Giles with his story, he figured if he convinced the girls, Giles would fall in place no problem. If he had to, though, he'd confront this world's Scoobs in their inner sanctum.

"So what happened to you?" Harmony asked.

They were seated on opposite sides of the booth, the jukebox playing something Indie and somber one booth over. Xander, who'd been periodically scanning the Bronze, faced Harmony and almost insulted her on reflex. He remembered they were there together and forced a smile onto his face.

"No big deal," he said. "I wasn't feeling too good and my folks took me to the hospital. They totally over-reacted."

"Sounds like your dad, alright."

"Yeah. I'm thirsty. What do you want?" Xander asked as he scooted out of the booth.

"Diet Coke. Ice."

"Okay, be right back."

Xander walked slowly to the bar, keeping an eye out for blondes and red heads. He ordered a Diet Coke for Harmony and a bottle of water for himself. He really could use a Yoo-hoo, but the nurse's instructions were strong in his memory.

Again, he meandered as he returned to the booth then stopped dead when he saw Cordelia sitting in the spot he previously vacated. Harmony just nodded at something Cordelia said when Cordelia turned and noticed Xander standing several feet from the booth holding the drinks in his hands.


	4. Chapter 4

Gender Theory 4

* * *

"Are you alright?" Cordelia asked.

_Is she talking to me?_

"I'm—I'm fine," Xander replied, averting his eyes. The Cordelia Chase sitting in the booth in front of him wasn't the same girl he dated then betrayed, but Xander couldn't stop the tear of guilt that he always felt when he saw her these last few months.

He gave Harmony her drink then slipped into the booth next to her, even though he was far from convinced sitting across from his very ex-girlfriend was a smart idea. He unscrewed the bottle of water and took a long swallow to increase to odds of his foot staying out of his mouth.

"Great, because I can manage sympathetic for only so long, I have problems too, you know," Cordelia said flipping her hair with her hand. "We need to talk about me now."

Harmony's knee bumped Xander's leg and he looked at her.

"I told you so," she said under her breath. Xander managed to hide his smile behind his water bottle before Cordelia saw it. His smile vanished once he realized he shared a moment Harmony.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Xander wondered if it was wrong of him to hope vampires attacked the Bronze. He was okay listening to Cordelia talk the first ten minutes because he missed hearing her voice, even if she talked about trivial things, but there was only so much even a guy/girl like him needed to know about womens' fashion. Listening to her go on and on about what a great kisser Devon is wasn't easy listening either.

While contemplating rather or not having his throat torn out by a vampire would be less painful than to continue listening to Cordelia ramble on about the half dozen pumps she ordered from Paris Xander caught sight of Angel. The vampire stood near one of the beams holding up the Bronze's balcony level, his eyes surveying the crowd. He was waiting for Buffy to show up, as usual.

"Oh, thank God!" Xander exclaimed.

"Oh, thank God, what?" Cordelia asked. She didn't sound pleased Xander interrupted her lament about not going to Paris to buy new shoes personally.

"Oh, uh, I see, uh, somebody I need to say hi to," Xander said, then silently added, assuming he even knows me in this whacked-out universe. He got up and rushed away from the booth before Cordelia or Harmony could ask him questions he didn't want to answer.

Xander shouldered his way through the dance floor once again, this time gathering a thin film of sweat on his face as he went—the booty shakers had worked up a lot of ambient heat on the dance floor. Angel noticed Xander's approach moments before Xander reached him. _Hallelujah! That's not a friendly expression!_ Xander thought when he saw the frown Angel aimed at him. It was the kind of look you give somebody you know and dislike intensely. If Angel had negative feelings towards Antonia it probably wouldn't help Xander get the answers he desperately needed, but at the same time he didn't think he could handle it if him and Angel were friends in this reality.

"Ms. Harris," Angel said when Xander was close enough to hear him over the dance music.

Xander blinked. Has Angel always been that tall? Xander did not like having to look that far up to look Angel in the eye. _Of course, I have to be a really short girl._

"Have you seen Buffy and Willow around?" Xander asked. Angel looked surprised, suspicious, and then annoyed by Xander's question. Not an impossible feat, considering that forehead, Xander thought unkindly. Briefly, Xander wondered what kind of animosity there was between Antonia and Angel that Angel didn't give him the blank expression he always gave him back in the non-crazy universe.

"No." Well, Angel giving monosyllable answers remained unchanged and annoying, at least.

"I need to talk to them, but I guess I'll settle for you," Xander said.

Antonia's voice made Xander sound super bitchy, almost Cordelia-like, so he wasn't shocked when Angel said, "Not interested," then walked away.

Before Angel could get far, Xander scrambled to block his escape. "Whoa there, big guy!" Expecting Angel to barrel right through him, Xander braced himself, but Angel stopped and lowered another frown at him instead. Grateful not to have been knock to the floor Xander said, "I'm—well—um—sorry? Listen, I do need to ask about what happened that night. You know, with Ethan Rayne?"

Angel recoiled slightly and his voice shook when he said, "Ethan?"

"I mean, did all of us, you know—um—Buffy, Willow, Giles, you, and me go to the caves to get the box?" Xander had to be sure the same events happened to Antonia in this Bizzaro world, otherwise his poured into a girl's body by a chaos wizard problem was going to sound nuts, even to the Scoobs.

"Yes, we did." Angel replied giving Xander a measuring look. "You don't remember? Did you hit your head?"

"Uh—yeah, maybe. It's kind of fuzzy, you know," Xander said, forcing a smile onto his face. Angel's eyes narrowed. Xander swore silently; his smile of assurance didn't work on Antonia's face.

"The doctor didn't say anything about you having a head injury," Angel said.

Xander blinked, then decided to shut up before he dug the hole he was in deeper. He shrugged and hoped Angel let it go at that. He tried to smile reassuringly again and probably wasn't any more successful than the first time.

"Anyway," Xander said, "did Ethan do something to Ant—to me that you saw?"

Angel's expression changed from suspicion to anxious instantly. He looked at the floor for a second then looked back up at Xander. "Yeah, he was leaning over you when I came back after getting Giles outside. Did—did you see anything after he attacked you?"

_You mean after he turned me into a girl? Did you hear me screaming in abject horror, Vampire-Boy? Dumb ass._ "Not much."

Angel's posture became more relaxed, less 'I got a stick up my butt' and more 'Thank Lucifer'. Xander noted Angel's behavior, but now that he had enough evidence to take to the gang when he finally caught up with them Xander didn't care what Angel's problems were. Xander was wondering if he could talk Harmony into driving him to Sunnydale High when Angel's voice broke into his thoughts.

"If you care, Willow recovered," Angel said.

That caught Xander's attention and his eyes shot up to Angel's. _Oh, God! I forgot about the feedback thing that got Willow!_ Sure, he was turned into a chick and had whatever with some guy, but did that excuse forgetting his best friend got fried? No, it did not!

Xander grabbed the lapels of Angel's coat and pulled him down so suddenly Angel was pulled off balance. "Where is she? The hospital?"

"Um," was all Angel managed to get out before he was yank out of Xander's grasp.

"What the hell are you doing to my girl, dude?" LaShon asked Angel whom he had shoved against a wall, his forearm jammed under Angel's chin. A few kids on the dance floor stopped gyrating to watch the hullabaloo. "I asked you a question, asshole!"

LaShon had changed clothes sometime after he left Antonia's house. He was wore a green hoodie, blue and white plaid cargo shorts, and blue flip-flops. It was pure yuppie trash wear; LaShon would have been right at home with the college douche bags at UC Sunnydale.

_Ew, I had sex with him,_ Xander thought with disgust.

Xander almost walked away and left LaShon to his impending dismemberment until he remembered LaShon had a truck.

"LaShon, I need to get out of here. Will you give me a lift?" LaShon pretended not to hear and continued cutting off the air supply to the vampire who didn't breathe.

_Is the dumb bastard ignoring me?_

Xander curled his hands into fists and narrowed his eyes at LaShon's back. Xander wanted to kick "his boyfriend" in the shin then run away. Now that he was a girl he could probably even get away with sucker-punching LaShon in the back of the head. Girls gets away with that kind of stuff all the… _Wait a minute._

Xander moved up beside LaShon and slid his arm around LaShon's waist, making sure to rub his hand over LaShon's flat stomach. Xander ignored the flutter he felt in his own stomach and rose up to his tiptoes and brought his mouth up to LaShon's ear. Then he crooned in the softest, most captivating voice he could manage.

"Please, I really need to leave." For added effect Xander slid his hand upwards until his fingers stroked LaShon's over-developed pectorals. _Um, wow. These are some tone pecs right here._

Xander wasn't sure he could modulate Antonia's voice any better than he could fake a smile with her face, but his efforts seemed to work. He felt the tension in LaShon's muscles relax to their normal hardness. Xander lost count how many times Cordy used that 'get your boyfriend horny' voice on him to get her way. Cordelia could work her feminine wiles like nobody's business.

_Huh. I used feminine wiles. Hey, I got wiles! I'm wily!_ Xander hid the satisfied smile that sprung to his face by pressing his lips against LaShon's hard, square jaw.

"Yeah, okay," LaShon finally replied before pulling away from Angel. Angel had remained passive through the whole ordeal and he looked completely disinterested as Xander led LaShon away, like nothing had happened.

_What do you know, there's an Angel somewhere in existence not hell bent on making my life more difficult._

* * *

"I thought you were going to get some rest?" LaShon asked after they settled into the truck.

"How could I resist a night out with the girls," Xander said, careful to keep the edge sarcasm out of his voice. He was still pissed about LaShon ignoring him back at the Bronze. "Anyway, I need you to take me to the school."

LaShon started the engine then looked at Xander. "I don't think that's such a hot idea."

_Yeah, because I care what you think,_ Xander thought, but out loud he said, "I'm doing better, really."

LaShon looked at Xander and studied him. After a few moments he faced forward then the truck motored out of the parking space. "Who was that guy back there?" LaShon asked when they rolled onto the street.

"That was Angel."

"First I heard of him."

"Probably because I don't think about or talk about Angel if I don't have to," Xander said as he impatiently tapped his index finger against his knee, his eyes on the road in front of them.

"Why were you grabbing him?"

Xander looked over at LaShon. "What's with all the questions, huh?"

"Nothing. But if he was bothering you maybe I'll go back and kick his ass."

Xander smiled knowingly. "Yeah, right, he'd tear you a new one. Two or four new ones," he said.

"I was punking his ass," LaShon boasted.

Xander shrugged noncommittally then concentrated on the road again.

They drove on in silence; when LaShon spoke again they were a few minutes away from the school. "Seriously, why have I never heard of Angel?" LaShon's tone was deceptively light.

"Consider yourself lucky."

"Notice how you're not answering the question?" LaShon said.

"God, do you want his phone number? He usually goes for teenage girls so don't get your hopes up," Xander said.

LaShon pulled over to the then cut the engine. He'd parked them more than twenty feet from the nearest streetlight. They were sitting ducks.

"What are you doing?" Xander asked.

"This is about Gwen, isn't it?"

"Gwen? Gwen who?"

"One of the things I love about you is you don't play games, so don't start now."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Xander said trading glances with the side view and the rear view mirror, convinced every shadow he saw was a demon creeping up on the truck.

"Right. I crawl over broken glass to get back with you and you don't remember why? I doubt it!"

_O-h-h-h-h-h-h._ Xander understood what LaShon's problem was now. Xander walked a mile or two in those moccasins. LaShon, however, appeared to have accomplished what Xander couldn't.

"You cheated on—me. With Gwen," Xander said.

LaShon looked away and sighed. "Yeah. Yes. So is Angel payback?" LaShon turned around and stared hopefully into Xander's eyes.

Xander could see the insecurity written on LaShon's face. Xander could see he needed to be reassured, to know Antonia wasn't trying to hurt him. And Xander tried not to laugh in his face, he really did, but the idea of hooking up with Angel sent Xander into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Thank god he wore a seat belt otherwise he'd have slid into a hysterical heap under the dashboard. LaShon turned away and restarted the truck. He slammed his foot down on the gas and they powered away from the curb so fast the back of Xander's head slammed against the headrest.

When they pulled up to the school Xander stumbled out of the truck, randomly erupting into giggles and wiping away tears. He took a few deep breaths and managed to stop laughing before he turned and looked at LaShon who was still behind the wheel, staring forward while the engine idled. His eyes smoldered with anger and hurt.

"I—I'm—I'm—s-sorry, um," Xander stuttered between gasps for breath. "It's j-just, ha, thinking I have something going with Angel is—jeeze. Ha! Why not accuse me of humping Jack the Ripper." Xander paused and a chill ran up his spine. _Now that I think about it the timing would be right— _

LaShon shot a glare at Xander. "Okay, you're not messing around with Angel," he said, "but you've been distant with me for months. We don't talk the way we used to. Not that I'd blame you if you need more time, but you said we were okay." LaShon shrugged. "What am I supposed to think?"

Xander fought the urge to roll his eyes. _The guy has sex with the girlfriend he cheated on and still he whines._ "Yeah, well, don't worry, I just have a lot on my mind. You'll get your old girlfriend back," Xander said, barely keeping the contempt out of his voice. Barely.

"Gonna to tell me why you had me bring you here?"

"Class project," Xander answered right away. He had that lie ready before they left the Bronze.

"I can hang. Watch you work that sexy brain of yours."

"That's sweet, but I think you'll distract me," Xander said. Last thing Xander needed was a spoiled dickhead hanging around while he tried to convince the gang to help him.

LaShon cracked a grin and looked entirely too pleased with himself. "Call me when you're finished. I'll give you a ride home."

"Sure."

When LaShon's truck pulled away from the school Xander watched it until it disappeared from sight, then made his way to the Library's rear entrance. Giles often left it unlocked for Angel. When Xander reached the door he took a deep breath then went inside.

As he wound his way between tall rows of bookshelves, Xander started working on what he'd say to the gang when he finally faced them. He knew he'd have to be careful or else things could go Slay-tastic against him real, real fast. Xander made out Giles' calm, British voice as he neared the Library's open area, but his words were undecipherable from so far back in the stacks. Then Xander heard Buffy and just hearing her voice filled him with a confidence he had not felt since he woke up in the hospital. But it was when Willow's voice reached his ears that Xander wanted to rush out of the stacks.

Uncertainty slowed his steps, though. Xander knew those people in the open area weren't his friends, not really, and he wasn't looking forward to the looks of doubt they'd give him after he explained his situation. He was barely holding it together as it was, if they ended up not believing him Xander didn't doubt for a minute he would lose his mind.

"Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!" Xander whispered then marched around the last bookshelf and came face to face with alien versions of his friends.

* * *

After the crowd on dance floor engulfed Antonia and her boyfriend, Angel reached for his throat and let his body gasp for breath. A young couple that had watched the confrontation asked if he was all right. Angel nodded, unable to speak, then headed to the Men's Restroom.

Angel stood in front of a mirror and studied his reflection as he struggled to catch his breath. Even after spending hours looking into the mirror back at the mansion, Angel still experienced shock at being able to see his reflection after so many centuries. Angel had seen drawings and paintings of his visage, but a mirror could display stark intricacies they could not.

His skin was several shades redder; a bruise was forming under his chin and on his neck. He was sweating, too. Either it was too dark in the Bronze for Antonia to notice or she didn't care enough to study him very closely (Angel leaned toward the latter). Either way, Angel was glad the girl's knack for noticing details was on the fritz.

Angel discovered his new condition the morning after the battle in the caves. He sat up on his bed and yawned. He hadn't yawned in hundreds of years. Then Angel felt his heart beating. Angel remembered Ethan Rayne's words and his newly animated heart began to beat faster.

There had to be a monkey's paw—nothing good would come of Rayne's magic, Angel knew that, but he didn't care. Whatever price he had to pay for this gift, he'd pay. Angel settled his hand on his chest—his skin was warm—feeling his newly animated heart thud swiftly behind his ribs. He was human. Or so he thought.

_tbc..._


End file.
